That Which We Are
by WinglessBird
Summary: Sometimes the love from friends and family is enough to get you through tough times. Tony is kidnapped and in a bad place psychologically. He needs all the love he can get. Still, nothing is ever as it seems.


"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs knocked firmly on the washroom door, "You've been in there for hours!"

On the other side of the door, Tony remained fixated on his reflection. For the past few weeks, Gibbs was his designated driver and today was his first real day back on the field. He heard Gibbs knocking but frankly, he really didn't care. It's been four months since the incident and while everyone thought that he had gotten better, he hadn't. Not really. Not even a little bit.

Sure he had fewer nightmares, but the ones that remained have become ten times worse. And while he hadn't told anyone, the flashbacks have come back with a vengeance.

Sleep was out of the question. He'd spend hours on his bed panicking on whether today will be one of those few good nights or a night filled with nightmares. By the time he would pass out from exhaustion, he'd have to be awake in an hour or two. People kept asking him about his pale skin and the dark bags under his eyes, but he was always prepared with some sort of witty remark.

'_Just catching up with the ladies, if you know what I mean.' _

'_Trying to make up for time lost.'_

'_Frat buddies and sleeping don't go hand in hand."_

Or something like that. Whatever. He didn't care. He didn't need their pity. The excuses gave him a way out.

It was easy. Simple.

He would pretend to eat in front of everyone, but all food had become tasteless to him. They thought he got better, that he was looking healthy again, but he had just found better ways of hiding it. He would eat, laugh, and go out with Tim and Ziva and Abby and Gibbs but the second he was left alone, the porcelain bowl became his best friend. He would vomit for hours. Sometimes he would pass out.

His washroom became something of a sanctuary for him. Something to block out the rest of the world. Sure the confinement reminded him of that time all those months ago, but it felt right somehow. As if it was now a part of him. A shrink would probably have a field day with him. But his washroom was his.

It was bright and warm and quiet.

* * *

_4 months earlier_

The room was dark and cold and silent.

It was the size of their interrogation room at the NCIS building but there was no two-way mirror this time or any chairs and tables. No, it was completely empty.

He'd been here for at least a day, he was sure. The small cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding and was starting to scab over. His kidnappers had left him a bottle of water but that was it. He didn't know how long he would be here, but he knew that if he weren't found soon, he wouldn't last long.

Tony didn't know what exactly happened that led him to be locked in here, but he knew he was given some type of hallucinogen.

He was probably drugged with a huge dose of LSD, because Gibbs suddenly appeared in front of him.

The lead agent was quietly staring at him and it was starting to freak him out a bit. Okay, yeah, it was a hallucination. He got that, but he couldn't help panicking.

Gibbs moved away from the corner he was standing at and went to sit beside Tony. Tony's breathing picked up. The silence was killing him.

"I'm having difficulty breathing, Boss."

"Well then stop having difficulties."

He didn't know how to take that. It was single-handedly the worse advice he had ever been given, and yet it was still the best.

It was easy. Simple.

"Okay," Tony replied as he tried slowing down his breathing.

Gibbs took Tony's hand in his own and lifted it to his own chest.

"Just feel my heartbeat."

It was a hallucination. Apparition. Mirage.

Whatever. He couldn't feel a thing.

"I don't feel anything, Gibbs."

"I know, Anthony," Gibbs turned his face to look directly at Tony, "you never do."

Anguished, Tony looked down at his lap breathing heavily before he looked up. Gibbs had disappeared, and while the delusion of Gibbs hurt him, he didn't want to be alone.

The isolation was too much for him. Tony tried to look for a way out. After several minutes of feeling around, he became desperate. There was no way out and the already-too small room was getting even smaller. Whether that was real or psychological, he wasn't too sure.

Moments later, he started to hear some whispering. Some whispers made no sense but others were torturous. He would hear women screaming and crying. Whispers of his role in Jenny's death or Jeanne's suffering came to haunt him. His first homicide case, where three little girls were raped and murdered before he had a chance to catch the killer, repeated over and over in his head. There were whispers of how he hadn't saved Ziva on time and instead her death fell on his hands.

The auditory hallucinations soon became visual and now laid in front of him were the scattered and mutilated bodies of Ziva, Kate, Jenny and Paula.

Tony turned to the corner and promptly threw up.

Sweat dripped down his face and pooled on his neck. Still facing the corner, he collapsed onto the floor and grabbed the nearby water bottle. Opening it, he took a small sip to wash out the acidity in his mouth. Tony closed his eyes and turned back towards the room. He prayed silently for the bodies to disappear and for the bad trip to finally end.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes. This time, all four women were sitting down with their legs sprawled out in front of them. Their eyes were gazing straight ahead and mouths wide open as if silently screaming.

"Stop it, please, I'm sorry," Tony mumbled, squeezing his eyes again. "Go away, just go away, please. I'm begging you, please, God. Please stop,_ please_."

Ziva closed her mouth and turned her head slowly towards Tony. "It's your fault we're dead, you know. You killed us."

Tony stared at her, gaping. He started to tremble- his whole body jerking rhythmically.

"Ziva. Please," he breathed out, his voice cracking.

Ziva turned back to stare straight ahead. Tony dragged his body up the wall, using it as support. He had to get away. He had to. He took a few steps towards the other corner, keeping his back on the wall and as far away from the apparitions as possible.

He dragged himself for a few more feet before the exhaustion finally caught up with him and his legs buckled beneath him. He was too exhausted to care anymore and allowed the darkness to encompass him. Blissful unconsciousness was always a welcomed escape.

It was easy. Simple.

Hours later, when Tony woke up, he started hallucinating again. A delusion of himself appeared in front of him and at first, he thought that he was in interrogation and staring back at his mirrored reflection. Instead, the apparition paced the small chamber silently before kneeling down beside Tony.

"Did you know," the hallucination whispered, "that no one is coming for you."

Tony started trembling again. He tried to speak up but the hallucination spoke up again.

"Obviously, they tried looking for you, yeah, but I'm sorry to tell you this. They gave up."

"Shut up," Tony creaked.

"You're not really worth all that trouble, you know? Your cars keep getting totaled, constant murder accusations, oh yeah remember that time where you put an innocent person in jail. They're actually better without you."

_shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupsh utupshutupSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP_

"Wendy left you. Jeanne left you. Gibbs left you. Your mom left you. Even your dad hates you."

Tony couldn't hold himself up anymore so he rested his body on the cold floor and used his hands to cover his ears.

The hallucination had started hurling insults at him and the whispers from before started up again. No matter how hard he covered his ears or squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn't block out the images of dead bodies or the sounds of screaming children. The overlapping noises became too much.

Tony opened his eyes abruptly. He crawled towards where the water bottle lay and threw it at the apparition. The bottle rolled for a few seconds before stopping at the other side of the room. It had burst open by now and was pouring out.

Without realizing what had happened, the water soon transformed into a small population of snakes and were starting to slither towards him.

"No, no, God, no. Please. Please no, no, no, please no."

Tony squirmed away as quickly as possible. He tried kicking and stomping on them but it just made them that much more vicious. He started panting now, breaths coming in short puffs, when suddenly one bit him powerfully on his leg.

Tony screamed. A long wailing sound echoed across the room.

The snake persisted and no shaking or pulling would shove the snake away.

Laughter was heard right next to his ear. He looked to his left. There was his apparition, holding a knife in one hand and the collar of his kneeling father in the other.

"I've always wanted to do this," the hallucination told him and Tony watched as he stabbed his own father in the heart. The hallucination started laughing again.

Tony was too stunned to do anything. He was trembling, cold, desperate, frantic.

There was nothing he could do. He crawled back against the wall and waited for the ever-encompassing black walls to engulf him. He sat quietly, panting. The snake bites, laughter, screams and whispering continued for several moments before the walls finally had the decency to creep up and surround him completely. The darkness was fully accepted. He knew that this was probably his last living moment, but he had long accepted that. He held on as long as he could and when his energy stores finally depleted, he passed out.

It was easy. Simple.

* * *

_Present_

"Tony, you alright?"

Gibbs was knocking again.

The lead agent had helped Tony the best he could. He saw the signals and understood him better than anyone else. Apparently, the team had found him just a few hours after he passed out. He was told that he was drugged with dimethyltryptamine, or DMT, a hallucinogen more potent than any other drug. And yet, even after weeks of living with Gibbs, psychiatric appointments, late night dinners and long tearful discussions, flashbacks were inevitable. When, earlier on, Gibbs held on to him tightly on those tearful nightmarish nights, it had gotten a bit better.

But soon enough, the nightmares picked up again and sometimes they were even worse than what he envisioned in that room.

Now, it was so bad that no matter where he was, he would still hear the noises and envision the mutilated bodies.

"Please, Tony. Open the door, you're scaring me."

That's not a first. He knows his screaming scared the lead agent several times over the past few months.

Today he'll work hard. He'll do his best. He'll help solve the case to the best of his ability. He'll kiss Abby. He'll listen to all of Ducky's stories. He'll make jokes with Jimmy, encourage McGee and flirt with Ziva.

He'll hug Gibbs. A real one. One filled with love, appreciation, compassion and affection. A good one for everything Gibbs has ever done for him.

Then tonight, when he finally gets home, he'll do everything he needs to do. He'll get everything ready.

Then he'll put a bullet in his mouth.

It was easy. Simple.


End file.
